


We Have Much to Discuss

by moonlit_space_seal



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlit_space_seal/pseuds/moonlit_space_seal
Summary: Zethrid gets the short end of the stick and is stuck dealing with an oddly complacent Haggar.  But she decides to make the most of it and makes it her mission to figure out just how long Zarkon's witch can stay silent.





	We Have Much to Discuss

“Uhh…Prince Lotor…what do I tell her?”  


Zethrid was trained for many things; _this _did not even come close.  
__

____

Lotor sighed and she could feel his frustration coming through the communicator.  


“Just get her inside. We’ll deal with her later,” he responded tersely.  


“But, we just raised the shields-”  


“Then give the order to lower them!” he snapped. “And use that damn head of yours before you contact me again.”  


Zethrid knew better than to remind him that this was only an issue because he was the one who had tightened protocol now that he wasn’t exiled anymore, but she kept her comments to herself as she barked out a quick order to a nearby underling.  


Within a few moments the docking bay doors opened and a small ship no bigger than an escape pod entered, came to a stop, and powered down.  


Zethrid told the underling to leave, and then walked inside the bay. As the doors closed behind her, Zethrid realized, with a jolt of annoyance, the implications of this moment. The right hand of Emperor Zarkon would surely have no qualms speaking on direct channels to deliver a message. And if she deigned to visit them, wouldn’t she have brought her entourage of Druids since she was the High Priestess? Why go through so much effort to quietly enter what technically was under her jurisdiction?  


“Are you _trying _to screw us all over?” Zethrid tactlessly asked as soon as Haggar stepped out of her ship, completely forgetting that right hands were as fickle as princes.  
__

____

Haggar glared at her for a few moments before speaking. “I owe you no explanation for my actions. And I will warn you only once: refrain from taking liberties with me as you do the Prince,” she sneered. Lotor still ignored the rules of rank it seemed, Haggar thought to herself. His exile had taught him nothing. She had tried warning Zarkon but now…well, that was no longer an issue.  


Zethrid looked down at her, literally. This was the first time she had met the witch in person. Had she always been this frail looking? Granted, she’d only seen the High Priestess on a giant screen whenever she contacted Lotor, so maybe Zethrid just needed to take that into account.  


Haggar’s scratchy voice interrupted her thoughts. “I will not repeat myself a third time. I wish to speak with the Prince. Now.” Her hands clenched and a sickly glow emanated from them as she barked out her demand.  


Zethrid took a deep breath. Lotor’s orders were to deal with her later. But the High Priestess wasn’t the type to be easily distracted by posturing or compliments. It was an agonizing decision: bring her to Lotor now and deal with his anger or tell her no and deal with _her _wrath. A small voice in the back of her mind warned her that so long as she was somebody’s subordinate, she would always be screwed over.  
__

____

“I can’t. He doesn’t want to speak with you right now.” Zethrid braced herself for whatever dark magic the High Priestess would conjure.  


But at this admission, all Zethrid could see was the witch’s body twitch ever so slightly. All that worry and just a muscle spasm? Her thoughts were a mess of relief and mild annoyance, and somewhere in that mess a single thought meandered about wondering if it were possible to kick the witch’s back into a straighter posture.  


“The Prince’s orders do not surprise me.” Haggar finally spoke after a few moments of terse silence. “I bring news of his father; it matters not to me when he will hear my words.” Momentous though they were, Haggar secretly added to herself.  


The High Priestess’s _words _spoke of detached emotion, but Zethrid could practically taste the rising murderous aura she was giving off.  
__

____

“Oh, well then.” Zethrid had been expecting an outright fight and instead she got a mostly complacent witch. “Right…I’ll just take you to what would be your chambers on this ship. This way!” she said with the biggest smile she could muster. A little charm couldn’t hurt, could it?  


Haggar stared blankly in her direction. Zethrid made a mental note that Naarti was more likely to be capable of speech than Haggar was to show emotion. She ushered the High Priestess into the corridor outside the bay. Lotor’s ships were still Galra, which meant they accounted for a number of Druids to be aboard. But the (formerly) exiled Prince’s ship had never housed them. Zethrid tried desperately to remember if Ezor had been using the chambers as storage for some rather unsavory trinkets, but she couldn’t recall well due to the murderous aura clothed in robes walking softly behind her.  


Zethrid had never been this close to the witch. She tried hard to remember anything particularly special Lotor had said about her, but nothing came to mind. She was the leader of the Druids; her magical power was unparalled. She made robeasts and other sorts of monsters out of the champions of the fighting pit. Zethrid had heard a lot about those monsters.  


Serving under an exiled prince meant that they had no chance to see the fights for themselves, though. Of course, the day Lotor returned and they ambushed that treasonous idiot in the stands more than made up for all the fights they missed.  


Zethrid shook her head and got back to the task at hand. The robeasts and the witch’s magic were all common knowledge. Nothing regarding her stoic personality stood out.  


Never one to let the unknown stand in her way, Zethrid pushed on. It was almost perfect timing. Ezor was teasing her the other day about her social skills or lack thereof. If Ezor were in Zethrid’s shoes, she would have pushed the limits of the witch’s patience with her bubbly chatter within seconds. Axca played by the rules; in other words, she knew her rank, and she wouldn’t have even initiated conversation. Naarti…was Naarti. Unless she was suddenly able to use her cat Kova for speech in addition to sight, she would remain mute.  


“Did you invent a new robeast and then it caused irrevocable damage?” Zethrid asked, determined to find out why the witch had “snuck in.” Badgering the High Priestess might not be the smartest avenue, but she felt a strange urge to prove that she could “use that damn head of hers.” Lotor was a genius, and among the generals she knew that most opponents took one look at her size and assumed that intelligence wasn’t her strongest suit.  


It had been true to some extent; she was initially shit at battle strategizing. The minute details of it made her want to scream sometimes. But she had excelled at it to come this far and enjoy her title as general. Besides, if you gave her a strategy to carry out, she could do _that _flawlessly. Planning was nothing without results.  
__

____

Haggar had still made no answer regarding the robeast.  


Well, directness hadn’t worked. Her one forte, but Zethrid was willing to step outside her talents. She listened to the hum of the ship and their footsteps echoing in the sterile and cold corridor for a while before speaking again.  


“Is that a new cloak you’re wearing? Felt like a change?”  


Haggar still did not deem the question with a verbal response, but Zethrid swore she heard the witch give an exasperated sigh.  


Zethrid took a little bit of glee in that. They had now entered a small lift and she stood to the side as Haggar faced forward. At this angle she could see her white hair cascading down.  


A soft chime dinged, letting them know they had arrived at the correct floor.  


“After you,” Zethrid said, in a chivalrous gesture. “It’s just a bit further down this corridor.”  


Haggar hesitated, and Zethrid tried to allay any of her fears that could come from Zethrid standing behind her. “I would never harm you High Priestess. I’m just trying to be…” Nice wasn’t the right word. Looking out for herself because she was tired of feeling her back tingle from the witch’s murderous aura was also a rather tactless opinion to express to one’s superior. “I’m just trying to be…hospitable?” That sounded half right.  


Haggar’s eyes looked extra glowy for a moment, but she took the lead as they left the elevator.  


A few moments passed as Zethrid craned her neck looking around at the corridor, trying to figure out how this one created for the Druids differed from the others. Squinting at some markings along the wall, she started her dangerous game again. “You have very lovely long white hair, High Priestess. Much like Prince Lotor’s. Doesn’t the Altean princess have white hair as well?”  


Haggar abruptly stopped walking. “What, pray tell,” she snarled, “does that have to do with _anything _?”  
__

____

“I’m just remarking on random observances, don’t know what you have against-.”  


Haggar turned quickly, ready to put this chattery subordinate in her place. However, Zethrid was too busy engaged with the markings along the wall to notice that she had stopped and bumped into her. Fortunately for Zethrid, Haggar’s lithe body did little impact to her own. Unfortunately for Haggar, said lithe body went flying. Flying was perhaps too strong a word, but she tumbled to her knees a few steps ahead of Zethrid.  


Zethrid’s throat’s tightened as she kept down a slew of profanities from leaving her mouth. The last thing she needed was Zarkon’s witch telling Lotor how she had been roughhoused. She immediately began apologizing profusely.  


“Please, let me help you up.” And before Haggar could so much as croak out a “no”, she grabbed the High Priestess’s arm and pulled her up.  


In hindsight, she probably should have focused her strength on the witch’s forearm rather than her wrist because a small pop emitted from somewhere under that draped mess of linen that Haggar called clothes.  


Zethrid again fought down a slew of expletives and patted Haggar’s back. “Well,” she choked out, “I’m sure that was just a well needed-” Another noise, this one more like a crack resounded from where Zethrid had lightly patted Haggar’s back.  


Zethrid’s face was now frozen between a sympathetic smile and an expression of utter horror.  


And it was this face that greeted Ezor as she came walking down from the opposite end of the corridor. She had decided to find out who the mysterious guest was for herself after Lotor admonished her for asking. And now she had been handsomely rewarded as she reveled in whatever farce was unfolding in front of her.  


Ezor looked from Haggar’s face, twisted in anger, to Zethrid’s complex expression, and then back again to Haggar’s eyes which could only be described as lividly bright.  


“Ooookaaay,” she breathed out. “Mind if I join you guys?” she smiled at the two of them. Haggar was busy rubbing her wrist while Zethrid looked as if she were petrified in a weblum’s war path.  


Haggar finally spoke after a few seconds, which felt like an eternity for Zethrid. “I have no qualms to you joining us.” Ezor then looked at Zethrid who said in an uncharacteristic energetic and robotic voice, “Sounds great!”, her face still a frozen smile of terror.  


Ezor rolled her eyes at Haggar. Zethrid was too traumatized to stop her from such behavior, but she could just feel a sliver of pride at Ezor’s rudeness.  


“Sheesh, you only had her for what? A few ticks? What’d you do to terrify her like that?” And then with a smile that made Haggar’s chest hurt from its bubbliness, she continued walking without waiting for an answer.  


“Off to your chambers we go then!” Ezor’s tone was as mind-numbingly perky as her smile.  


The three of them made their way to the end of the corridor, while Ezor hummed a tune that Haggar wished she had never heard. A dull pain was still pulsating in her back and she unconsciously stood a bit taller to ease the pain. Alas, Zethrid was too busy mercifully counting the seconds that she wasn't dead to notice.  


“Ezor, Zethrid, why are you- High Priestess!” Axca had also come down the corridor. She had seen Ezor slip away after Lotor refused to tell her who their guest was and knew that nothing could end well with her companion wearing that sly of a smile. Naarti was dutifully beside her.  


Axca was stunned. “High Priestess, I had no idea you were our guest. If I had known-”  


“I do not need your condescension,” Haggar snapped. They had reached the doors and she walked in without saying another word.  


Axca looked at Ezor humming the space mall tune, and then at Zethrid whom she could only imagine what sort of trouble had plastered that strained of a smile on her face.  


“Please, High Priestess,” Axca tried again, before the door closed. “Know that we are honored to have you on board, and if you wish for us to carry any sort of message to Prince Lotor we will gladly do so. And I…apologize for any…” She looked at her friends, “inconveniences you might have experienced.”  


Haggar took an honest look at the four of them, as well as the cat perched on Naarti’s shoulder. She sighed inwardly. Now was not the time to be making more enemies. Loathe as she was to admit it, she needed them. “Yes, I do have a message.”  


They looked at her, expectantly.  


“Emperor Zarkon is dead.”  


Ezor stopped humming.  


“Prince Lotor’s mother wishes to speak with him.”  


Zethrid’s strained smile drained from her face, only to be replaced with a look of horrific realization.  


“And I’ll be taking my cat back.”  


Haggar called out to Kova, who jumped gracefully to her, sliding her hood off as he pawed and came to snuggle on her shoulder. She paused to scratch behind his ear, then faced the four generals again, not caring at all that they were gaping at her pointed ears. Much like Prince Lotor’s. And then she did something that made their blood run cold.  
She smiled.  


“We have much to discuss.”  


An awful silence enveloped the four of them after the doors shut. A few seconds passed before it was finally broken by a chorus of, “ _Her _cat?!”__

**Author's Note:**

> Look, the generals have got their priorities :D
> 
> I'm a bit proud of this one because it's gone through so many changes over the years. I originally wrote it my notebook when season 3 had barely dropped, and I had no idea why the hell my mind decided to have Zethrid and Haggar meet up. A few seasons later and I thought oh SWEET now they actually met in canon, and thennnn a few seasons later I thought ahh well....might as well post something up XD
> 
> It's gone through lots of drafts and practically tripled in word count, but the key scene of that back slap was all I wanted to make sure that stayed haha. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this and lemme know your thoughts on it if you have any~!


End file.
